


I'd Tell You Everything

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [301]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator Bucky Barnes, Shy Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 00:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: It’s not that Steve feels bad about calling a phone sex line. It’s that he feels, well, kind of ridiculous.





	I'd Tell You Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Phone Sex Operator AU. Prompt from this [generator](https://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).
> 
> Rating is for dirty talk, duh.

It’s not that Steve feels bad about calling a phone sex line. It’s that he feels, well, kind of ridiculous.

“I can set you up with Pepper’s friend from accounting,” Tony’d said that morning.

“Have you talked to that new kid in marketing?” Nat had needled as she lingered at his desk. "He's really cute."

“Hey, man,” Sam had said as they wandered back from lunch, cheap cigarettes in hand, “you seriously still running with this celibacy thing?”

Steve’d blushed and hidden it behind a drag. “I, uh. Yeah. I guess.”

They stopped at the crosswalk, stuck behind a gaggle of giggly tourists. “Steve,” Sam’d said, “this is gonna sound crass as hell, but it comes from a kind place, I swear: when the last time you stuck your dick in something that wasn’t your fist?”

“Er,” Steve said with a nervous laugh, “I don’t know. Not like I’m tracking it down to the minute.”

Sam’s eyes had gone wide behind his shades. “Oh, god. That long?”

See, he may have made a huge mistake in telling everybody he wasn’t dating on purpose, that it was an intellectual choice borne of thoughtful consideration and a deep reflection or something. The truth was that since his accident, dating scared the hell out of him, the singles scene even more so, and he’d be damned if he was going to waste his second chance at living worrying about whether he was worthy of love. He was, obviously, he just wasn’t going to burn daylight looking for The One because a) there was no such thing and b) he had his friends and weekend phone calls from his mom and he was fine on his own, really, pretty damn great. If he met the right person, cool, and if he didn’t, well, like Sam had said, sort of, that’s what his right hand was for.

Hence phone sex. Hence feeling 100% idiotic. Hence sweaty palms and dry mouth and (truth be told) an already semi-interested dick--all before anybody picks up.

“Hi, baby.”

“Um. Hi.”

A chuckle. “What’s your name?”

“Steve.” _ Shit. _ Steve winces. Was he supposed to use a pseudonym? Too late now.

“Hi, Steve. I’m Buck.”

Ok, that’s so obviously a fake name. He’s messed this up already. Why hadn’t he come with something before he dialed? Or just blurted out _ Tony_? Stark would've approved.

“Steve?” A raised eyebrow of a word. “Did I lose you?”

“No, no, sorry. Sorry. I’m here.”

“No need to be sorry. Let me guess: this is your first time calling one of these things, isn’t it?”

“It shows, huh?”

That chuckle again, warmer now. “Baby, I can hear newbies a mile away. It’s ok. We can take it at whatever pace that you’d like. We can talk about the weather, if you want to.”

It’s a nice voice, Steve thinks. Brooklyn for sure, but with a background kind of purr. “People call you and talk about the weather? Come on.”

“Would you believe,” Buck says, “that I have one regular who jacks off to thunderstorms? Thinks he’s the Norse god of thunder or some shit.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmm. Nothing makes him come harder than a big lightning strike.”

There’s something about hearing Buck say _ come _ that makes Steve’s hips twitch like, _ hello _, that’s the whole reason he’s here. Or not here here, but hearing every catch in Steve’s breath. There are a lot of those, suddenly.

“Oh,” he says.

A hum. “What makes you come, Steve?”

“Um.”

“Do you need a mouth on your cock?”

Oh god. “That...that wouldn’t hurt.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Not if I was the one licking you, nuzzling your balls and tracing your shaft and teasing that wet little slit.”

Steve’s cock jerks. “Shit.”

“Tell me what it looks like.”

“What?”

Buck laughs, the sound a hot shot. “Your dick, honey.”

“It’s, ah--”

“How long are you?”

Steve feels himself flush. “Nine inches.”

“Ohhh, a big boy, huh? I like it. Does it drip?”

“Does it--?” It takes him a second. “Sometimes there’s a lot of precum, yeah.”

A soft little sound. “Is there a lot of precum right now?”

“I don’t know. It’s still in my boxers.”

“I think you should take that shit off.”

It takes one hand and some scrabbling and then he’s free, boxers around his ankles. “They’re off.”

“So. Look at your cock for me, Steve. Touch that pretty hot head. You wet for me yet?”

He’s sure Buck knows the instant he complies because a moan slips out of his mouth, a clean sheet waving in the breeze. “A little, but I’m not--”

“Not what, baby?”

“Not all the way stiff yet.”

“Haven’t you been touching it?” Buck’s voice is barbed now. “All this time we’ve been talking and you haven’t been playing with it?”

“No, I told you, I just took of my--”

“Get a hand on it.”

Shit. Steve’s hips come up off the bed. “_Buck_.”

“Oh,” Buck says, "that's pretty. I like that. Stroke your cock and say that again.”

The receiver is getting hard to hold on to; he pins it between his shoulder and his ear and reaches down, curls his fingers around the shaft, slides. “Oh, Buck.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Feels good.”

A purr. “Then don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He couldn’t. He lets his head falls back. “Keep talking to me.”

“If I were there,” Buck says, “I’d be watching you. Laying next to you and pinching your nipples and telling you to keep going, not to stop.”

“Not gonna. Not.”

“And I’d be breathing in your ear, just like this. Talking sweet and dirty to you as you made your dick hard for me.”

Steve’s eyes fall shut. There’s a blurt of heat from his slit. “For you?”

“Mmmhmmm. All for me. You know why?”

“No.”

“Because I’m wet and stretched already. Been like this the whole night. Ever since you came home from work.”

“You--?”

“Uh huh. The whole time we were eating supper, the whole time we were watching a movie on the couch, I was open for you, honey. Dripping. You could’ve taken me in one push.”

He can see it. Oh, god, can he: a beautiful man tucked beside him on the couch, smirking, his fingers teasing the curve of Steve’s knee all night, nails turning over denim: wet and ready for him and not saying a goddamn thing.

“Or in the kitchen when we were cleaning up,” Buck hums. “I thought about it, you know--unbuckling my belt and bending over the counter while your back was turned to see if you’d get the fucking hint.”

A whine rolls out of Steve’s throat, a whimper. “Oh, god. Why didn’t you just ask me to?”

“I thought you’d notice how hard I was. Wanted you to. Sometimes I like it when I don’t have to ask, when you just take me. When you can just look at me and know that I’ve been thinking about getting dicked all day.”

“Did you now?”

A moan. “Ever since you left this morning. Ever since I rolled over and tugged one out on your side of the bed. Can you smell me there, baby? I hope so. I poured out an awful lot.”

Steve can. God help him, for a second, he’d have sworn that he could. “Oh shit.”

“Thought about you all day. In the shower, when I was at the store.” Buck’s voice is softer now, but thicker: caramel straight from the jar. “But every time I got myself off, all I could think of was how much I missed you, Steve. How much I needed you to get home already and pound one out in my ass.”

Steve’s balls jerk, a sure, pure sign. Fuck, it’s been a long time. “Is that what you want?” he gets out. “You wanna be full?”

“Mmmmm, fuck.” Is it him, or does Buck sound a little breathless, too? “Fuck yes, I do. Of you."

“Tell me how you got yourself ready for me.”

“I got naked and spread out on your bed. Got the lube and my big toy, the one that reminds me of you, you know the one?”

Steve rolls with it. “Yeah. The purple one that you made me buy for you. The one you begged for.”

“Because it’s long like you are. Because when you’re not here and I need it, what else am I supposed to do?”

Steve is lost in this shit, lost, and suddenly the horror stories of 900-numbers and $300 phone bills don’t seem so goddamn far-fetched. He could listen to Buck talk to him like this for hours--if he weren’t about to burst. “You’re supposed to be good and wait for me. Not play with yourself all day.”

A whine. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Yes, you could. You just didn’t want to.”

“No,” Buck pants. “I didn’t. And I’m tired of waiting now. Let me sit on that dick, daddy, _ please_.”

His fist is flying now. “You want it so bad, Buck,” he hears himself growl, “you come take it.”

“Mmmmm, god yes,” Buck says, the words curling in Steve’s ear like cats. “I’m straddling your hips and I’m sinking down on your big, hot cock. Making you push it in my tight little hole.”

The image is killing him: this velvet-voiced stranger arched over him, his body taut as he reaches down and guides Steve’s cock inside and all at once he’s close, holy shit, he is so fucking close to coming his brains out that there’s not a cent left to make words.

And yet somehow, this person who's never met him, who can't see him knows that he’s at the edge; he can hear it in Buck’s voice behind the heat, a surge of something almost triumphant. “And when you’re like this, daddy,” Buck breathes, “don’t you fucking forget: you belong to me. You’re mine.”

What comes after is a shout, a shout and a spurt that hits his chin as he creams his fist and somewhere, beyond the sounds of his own pleasure, he can hear Buck sighing, his breath going quick and gorgeous and sweet.

“That’s right,” Buck says in his ear like he’s really there, like there’s no static between them, no wires or receiver, no telephone line. “Oh, god, Steve, come for me. Just like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently it’s prurient porn week here at MM—sorry for the flood of smut, friends!


End file.
